ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY FANFICS!
Yes. In commemoration, I have written a fanfic just about that. Warning: This is crap. I mean it. I just wrote it because I couldn't just let a fanfic challenge slip by without taking part. For Pokeshipper99's fanfic contest.
I know, some of you will probably feel insulted at the way I treated you here. You can flame. But I'm probably not taking this off the site, okay? I mean, if anyone at all enjoys it, I won't take it down. BUT I have this terrible nagging feeling that this is going to insult more than just the authors involved. I mean...I really don't know...
Random idea. I've written something like this before, but it was a lot simpler and shorter. Almost all the Singapore Maple authors are involved here. I just assumed that everyone knows everyone's phone number. I also pretended that we don't know each other's real names. It's fiction, remember?
Figs, Terrorists and Romantic Operas
How a simple party invitation went wrong.
To Pokeshipper99
It was time to celebrate, for something extraordinary had happened. For the first time in Maple fandom history, an author had met the mark of 120 pieces of fan fiction.
And this inaugural achievement was credited to none other than…Absol Master.
Absol jumped up and down in her seat in excitement as the green letters spelling "success" appeared in her browser. She had just posted the stupendous, awe-inspiring, glorious 120th fanfic to her archive—a humour fanfic for compatriot Pokeshipper99's fanfic contest.
And of course, such an event deserved a huge celebration—a full military parade, a few F-16s, crowds of screaming fans, and perhaps a 21-gun salute—but nah, she decided to keep it simple.
This calls for a party! Absol thought, grabbing her phone and dialling for Pokeshipper. Since the fanfic had been for him, he deserved to get the first invitation.
But she was going to be kind of busy, what with the wonderful music of Turandot to find on YouTube. So she only had time to call one person.
"Yo, Pokeshipper!"
"Uh—hi—"
"One hundred and twenty fics! One-two-oooh! YEAH!" Pokeshipper waited while Absol recovered from a fit of madness. "I'm gonna be having a party to commemorate the occasion, and YOU'RE INVITED! My house, 20 Springwood Height, four to nine this Sunday! Okay? Pass the message! Get as many Singapore Maple authors to come as you can! It's gonna go with a bang! I ROOLZ!!"
While Absol had another fit, Pokeshipper kindly hung up.
To Gonrod
"Hey, Gonrod," the aforementioned author said on the phone to the great author of Survivor Style.
"Yeah?"
"Absol gave me a message to pass—she picked 120 figs, and I don't know what's so great about that. But she's going to have a party, and you're invited."
"Go on."
"She says her house is too springy, so we're going to hike for tuna this Sunday. Remember to get as many SG Maple authors to come. And she said to bring guns and kangaroos!"
"Sounds great!" Gonrod replied. "I'll spread the word. Thanks!"
To Zethos Orenia Gale
Somewhere out there…Zethos' phone rang. He picked up and was surprised to hear Gonrod's voice.
"Hey there, Zethos! I've got news! Absol Master is going to be having a party this Sunday. We'll be eating figs and hunting fish, 'cos her home is full of springs."
"Hm?" Zethos was getting mildly confused by what he was hearing. "Okay…this Sunday, is it? I'll go ask her for details later."
"And remember to tell more SG Maple authors, okay?"
"Yeah, okay. See you."
Okay…SG Maple authors…
To XEmik665
XEmik665 was currently about to do his Math homework, when suddenly, his phone rang.
"Hey, Emik," Zethos' voice came from the other end of the line. "I've got a message from Absol. She's going to be hunting fish this Sunday with guns and cannons! Will it work?"
"Doubt it," Emik replied, flipping his workbook pages.
"Yeah, and know what she's having for snacks? Figs! Yuck! And she wants us to spread the word to all the SG Maple authors."
"Wait—guns and cannons, did you say? This could be bad…"
Zethos murmured in agreement while Emik summarised everything he had heard in his brain. Or what he thought he had heard, at least.
"Okay—thanks for the info. Bye."
To Jicar540
Thinking it best for the good of everyone, XEmik665 called Jicar540, the Master of Poetry.
Jicar picked up her phone. "Yes?"
"Emik here. And I've got an important message about Absol Master—she's getting guns and cannons, which is illegal—and taking them to work."
"Work? She works?"
"Seems so. And they only get to eat fruit for meals there! Eww. Yup, anyway, she's in possession of guns. Thought I'd warn you. And do tell the other SG Maple authors—there might be bad things about to happen."
Jicar's mouth was open, her mind reeling. "Thanks. I'd better go tell them. This is bad, bad."
She hurriedly hung up, and dialled Sobriquet Nightmare's number.
To Sobriquet Nightmare
Sobriquet was enjoying a glass of orange juice and some good music on his stereo, when the loud, incessant ringing of his phone suddenly drowned the music out. Annoyed, he picked up.
"Yus? Who's that?"
"Me, Jicar. We've got a huge problem. Absol Master is turning to criiime!"
The champion of writing cryptology spat his orange juice out. "ABSOL MASTER?!"
"Yes, yes! She's going to stage a mass shooting in her workplace tomorrow, just because they don't give satisfactory lunches! Help, Sobriquet! What're we gonna do?! It's our fault, isn't it?"
Sobriquet had just drunk some more juice. He now spat it out. "WORKPLACE?!"
"Yes! I had no idea. But this is really, really serious. Spread the word to the other SG Maple authors! QUICK!"
Nodding, he hung up and immediately went to his phonebook.
To Master and Chief and Arbiter
Chief (short for Master and Chief and Arbiter) felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. Picking up, he was shocked to hear Sobriquet Nightmare screaming something unintelligible at him.
"PASS THE MESSAGE! Absol Master is becoming a blood-lusting, gun-crazed lunatic, and she's gonna commit mass murder! Mass murder! Blood, gore, screaming—tomorrow! WARN EVERYONE!" Sobriquet was hyperventilating. Without another word, he hung up, leaving Chief to stare at nothing, trying to comprehend the message he had just received.
To Ccw
And so Ccw soon had his phone ringing.
"Yes? Ccw here?"
"Good." Chief sounded slightly panicky. "I just got the news. Absol Master, the one we always trusted—even with our MSN addresses—is actually a terrorist. Singapore's gonna be in danger, if we don't do anything. Please call the other authors and warn them, now."
Ccw paused for a moment to take that in. "Absol? And she was lying about her school, and everything, all this while? Bad. Really bad. Thanks for the info!"
While Chief hung up, Ccw quickly got to his contacts and found CrapPishh's number. This was bad.
Really bad. Really, really bad.
To CrapPishh
Magika had just earned herself another 0.01% of exp! The Master of Angst gave a shouting cheer and took her Priest character to a safe spot, before going to answer her ringing phone.
"CrapPishh! Really bad news. We're as good as dead—Absol Master... is actually Mas Selamat! He was just using a FanFiction account to spy—oh goodness! We told her so much!"
"Whoa, whoa…slow down, Ccw! Absol Master is Mas Selamat?"
"YES! And we'd better do something about it NOW!"
"Okay…calm down. I'd better go check."
"Hope you survive—and pass the message to everyone, please!!"
Ccw slammed the phone down. CrapPishh rubbed her ear before cautiously dialling Absol Master's number.
...and back to Absol Master.
Just as the talented Luciano Pavarotti broke into another powerful "nessun dorma" in the middle of Turandot, Absol's handphone's ringtone sounded—a particularly loud recording of Yoko Kanno's Waratetta. Excited, she picked up.
"That's fast! You coming?"
It was CrapPishh. "A—Absol? You're not—" She breathed in deeply. "Tell the truth! Are you Mas Selamat or not?!"
"Wha—Mas Selamat? Me? How on earth—"
Somehow, she knew the answer. Bad phone lines.
And for the record, Maple authors were never very good listeners to start with.
"O-okay. I have no idea how my message got distorted like that. But I was just inviting you people to my 120th fanfic party! And it got turned into—that. Well, here's the real message."
Absol Master then repeated the message for CrapPishh to hear.
"Thanks, I think I can make it," CrapPishh answered. "Should be going!"
"Sure, see you there! Bye!"
Hanging up, Absol Master went back to the computer and began to browse other Turandot videos (which are really nice, by the way).
Twenty minutes later, her handphone rang again.
Oh yeah! I can't wait to see who's coming!
Heart pounding with the prospect of her upcoming uber-huge party, she pressed the "answer" button.
"He—"
"ABSOL MASTER?!" It was XEmik665, screaming his lungs out. "You're gonna dress up as Barney and parachute from the Eiffel Tower??"
Absol's jaw dropped. She slapped her forehead. Why were Maple authors such deaf people? She had no idea how in the world her message could have gotten turned into that.
One thing was for sure, though. She was never going to hold a party with Maple authors ever again.
Whoa, new FF design. I shall explore it a little now :D
I really hope no one's angry about this piece. But if you are, feel free to express it. I think it was quite wrong of me to write something like that.